Wrong Place, Wrong Time
by ARobb21
Summary: The story of James Shaw. This is my first fanfic, so constructive criticism would be accepted.
1. Chapter 1

_3:30am_

_God damnit, why do these flights always take so long_, James thought to himself. He had boarded the flight from Sydney to Liberty City nearly 12 hours ago, and they still had 3 hours to go on the trip. James looked out the window, and could barely make out Los Santos through the clouds.

_I should probably try and get some shut-eye,_ he said, again thinking to himself. He had not slept yet through the 12 hour journey, so getting some sleep now would do him some good, especially since jet-lag could be a bitch. James, a 6-foot nothing business entrepreneur from Australia was heading to Liberty City during his annual leave. He had decided Liberty City over Los Santos, Las Venturas and San Fierro due to the city being revamped since 1990, the last time James had been. He planned on visiting Happiness Island and seeing the newly erected statue that had been put there in 2002 to commemorate the mass murders by Claude Speed. It was rightly named the Statue of Happiness, although it did not symbolize happiness, due to the lower half as well as the very top being covered in graffiti thanks to the wonderful youth of the city.

_6:13am_

James awoke to the sound of the captain announcing that they were about to descend into Liberty City. He sat up eagerly, fastening his seatbelt as the sign said. He had already organized to be picked up by a taxi and taken to his hotel, where his car, shipped from Australia, would be waiting for him. As the plane started its descent, James looked out the window and stared in awe at the wonders of Liberty City. Rotterdam Tower was lit up and stood fair higher than the rest, and was the first thing that caught James' eye. It was an architectural marvel. In fact, the entire city was. Even as the plane touched down, James was in awe at the airport. It was so… futuristic. He had never seen anything like it.

Before he knew it, the rest of that plane was empty and he was the only one left, with one of the flight attendants asking him to get off the plane. He had daydreamed and had not realized. James stood up, opened the overhead compartment and pulled down his bag, filled with some food he had brought and not eaten. The next hour and a half was spent going through customs and quarantine, meaning he had to surrender the food that had been in his bag. _What a waste of 25 dollars_, he thought to himself. Once he had finally gotten through all the hustle and bustle of customs, he picked up his baggage and headed outside of the airport. Surely enough, just 100 or so meters from where he was. The man was sitting on the hood of his black Vigero with a sign saying 'James Shaw'. James walked over to the man.

"You James Shaw?" the man asked.

"In the flesh." Replied James.

"Hop in, I'll take you to the hotel."

"Sure thing. Nice ride you got here, how much it set ya back?"

"Ah.. Not much, I got it for cheap, like a couple of grand."

"How fast can she go?"

"Oh.. She can get up there. I topped her at 80 miles."

"Damn! That ain't the original engine is it?"

"Oh god no. Now get in, we gotta get their in… 8 minutes." Looking at his watch as he talked.

"OK. Where is the hotel?"

"On the other side of the city."

"How long would it take to get there?"

"Uhm.. 15 to 20 minutes."

"OK. We have to hurry the fuck up."

James and the driver both hopped in, and he put the pedal to the floor. The back tires spun and spun, kicking up smoke until the car finally started to move. The car snaked for a bit but got going and they were off. The driver had been right when he said the car was fast. It was going to be extremely hard for them to make it to the hotel in the time that the driver had said, but at this pace and with the way the driver was driving, they could possibly make it.

"What is your name, I didn't catch it before." James said, breaking the silence.

"Oh, sorry, Dave, Dave Deskrewitz." The driver replied.

"OK Dave. Do you mind telling me why we are in such a hurry?"

"Someone wants to talk to you?"

"And who might that be?"

"Well that would ruin the entire surprise wouldn't it?" Dave said, looking at James with a smirk on his face, and he pressed a button, locking all the doors.

"Wha… What are you doing?" James stuttered. He knew this was not good.

"We're going on a little ride…" Dave said, and the car suddenly made a sharp right turn, cutting off a taxi whose driver went ballistic.

"You fucking moron, get back here so I can kick your fucking ass! Pussy!"

"Where are we going?" James asked, knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer.

"Well… I'm not going to tell you, but it's a long way from the hotel."

"But why?"

"Because you saw something that you shouldn't have."

James was confused. Actually, he wasn't, but he was trying to look it. He knew exactly what they were talking about.

"What are you talking about?" It was hard to act confused for someone who mainly talked over the phone.

"That night in Los Santos, when you saw…"

"I haven't been to Los Santos."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again."

_This guy is good. He isn't a driver_, James thought. He had no idea what he was going to do. It was either confess or possibly die. But for all he knew, he could confess then die anyway.

"OK, OK, I saw it." Confessing seemed like the better option.

"Wrong answer."

Then James' world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Suddenly light burst back into James' world, and so did a shadowy figure. The guy looked rough, as if he had been through a lot in his life. He was around 35 years old, with short blacky-brown hair, scruffy facial hair and a distinguishing scar on his left eyebrow. James knew exactly who he was.

"James, James, James. Long time it's been, has it not?"

"Niko, Niko, Niko. It has been quite a while. When was it last I saw you?"

"When you hired me on the Platypus."

"Ah yes, 5 years or so?"

"Something like that."

"So you're part of the Mafia now?"

"Mafia? No. I have created my own organization. You may know my accomplice, Packie McReary."

Packie came out of the darkness. James was astonished. Packie had been Dave Deskrewitz to James until now.

"Yes Niko, I know him."

"I thought you might have. Now I think you are wondering what you are doing here…"

"No, not really. I saw something in Los Santos, someone who is involved with you I'm guessing, and now I am going to pay for it. Would I be right?"

"Close enough. Now it's your choice. Where do you want to be shot? Left or right knee?"

"Preferably neither."

"Wrong choice."

Niko raised the gun from James' kneecap to James' temple.

"Left or right side?" Niko asked.

"Left. I think mostly with the right side of my brain."

"This is not time for jokes."

"Oh I think it is."

"And why is that?"

"Because you aren't gonna shoot me."

"Oh really? I shot Darko, I shot Dmitri and I shot the hit man who killed Roman. I have shot numerous people during my life, so what makes you think I won't shoot you?"

"Because you want me to work for you."

"No. I don't. I have plenty of people better than you."

"No, you don't. I am the best negotiator you could possibly get."

"Who says I need a negotiator?"

"What?"

"I don't negotiate, I just kill."

_Fuck_, James thought. He had bet all his cards that Niko would need someone to talk to the people that he needed to talk to, but he didn't, and know James is dead. There was only one choice. Run, and run was what he did. Niko turned to Packie, probably to talk about how they would torture James, but they wouldn't have a chance, because James had just ran out the wide-open door. He had no idea where he was going, but he just followed the halls, and finally found the open air. He looked around, looking for a road. Running aimlessly had helped him so far, so he continued to do so and finally found the road. However, there were no taxis in sight. Not good. Hitchhiking wasn't gonna work, so there was only one thing to do.

The sound of glass shattering was loud, louder than James had expected, and, unfortunately for him, a police cruiser was cruising past.

"Ah, excuse me sir, what are you doing?"

"Uhmm… I.. ah.. lost my keys."

"Is this your car?"

"Yes."

"OK, go right ahead."

_Wow… Really_, James thought to himself, _what a stupid cop_. James opened the door and sat down. He waited for the police cruiser to get out of sight, and then checked for any more coming, and when he saw he was alone, he put his hand under the steering column, feeling for a clip, a clip he so dearly needed. He found it, and took off the cover that protected the wires behind the ignition. He 

then lowered his head to look for the wires. He found them, two of them, so beautiful in the red covers. He stripped off those covers and twisted the two. He then looked for the ignition wire, and he hoped that it was brown in this car, because that is what he found. He stripped that wire, and then, holding the formerly red wires in his left hand, and the brown wire in his right, he made their ends meet. The engine spluttered, but then it came to life. _Success_, James thought, as he pushed down on the accelerator, trying to get out of wherever the hell he was.

James continued down the street, and then up the ramp that led to the highway. He had to get out of the area before the real owner of the car found out it had been stolen. He had no idea where the hotel was, but that was not where he was going. He had overheard some of the guys at where ever Niko had kept him talk about a guy that deals weapons at Firefly Island. That was where he was headed. Only problem was he didn't know where Firefly Island was, so he fiddled under the passenger seat to try and find a directory of some sort. He finally found one, a tourist's guide, and he pulled off the highway and parked his car as soon as possible. He opened the tourist's guide and looked for Firefly Island. When he finally found it, he realized that he would have to back track a bit. He reversed, but what he hadn't noticed was that a car had parked behind him while he read the guide.

There was a crash and the sound of metal colliding with metal, and the back of "James'" car scraping along the front of the other car. _Fuck_, James thought. The cops were going to come and ask for his license and registration. He had to get out of here. The other driver had come to his window, but James had to go, and right as the man knocked on the window, James sped off.

_Things are just going from bad to worse_, James thought.


End file.
